I never thought much about Mardi Gras until I met a gal who lived in New Orleans. When I lived in Oklahoma City, I worked as a traveling marketing representative for a nationwide insurance company, and she was the company’s marketing rep in Louisiana. Quarterly, we had to fly to San Antonio, Texas, for meetings. We became the best of friends, and that’s how I learned about Mardi Gras.

Mardi Gras is French for “Fat Tuesday,” the final day of Carnival and the last day to consume rich, fatty foods before the Christian fasting season of Lent. But we all know the celebration involves more than feasting. Festivities include two weeks of parades with elaborate floats, music, lavish costumes, and feathered masks, allowing people of all classes to mingle and participate freely. In New Orleans, float riders are required by law to wear masks. The official colors of Mardi Gras are purple for justice, green for faith, and gold for power. Beads of these colors are thrown by maskers on the floats to the crowd lining the street—to include spectators in the celebration. As a Mardi Gras tradition, people take off the colorful beads on Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent.

Have you been to Mardi Gras? Make a comment on this blog post about your experience.

Masked Extravaganza 
by Dee Bowlin
 					
I might be mad, but I made it 
to Mardi Gras in New Orleans, 
here to revel before Lent’s penance, 
with thousands of my closest friends. 

Cherished doubloons fly recklessly 
from floats of King Rex and his Queen, 
flamboyant convoys of colors, 
parades of gold, purple, and green. 

Hiding behind a feathered mask 
with no inhibitions, I’m bold, 
screaming, “Throw me somethin’, Mister!”  
grabbing plastic beads like they’re gold. 

Those coveted beads, prized as gems, 
will bring luck and kisses, they say.  
So, spangled, bewitched, and beguiled, 
I’m dancing my worries away. 

Lost in a sunset of sequins 
among maskers laden with jewels, 
the music lures me into a night 
of escapades breaking all rules. 

The lavish mystique and glitter 
put me under a cryptic spell. 
When I get home from New Orleans,
don’t ask what I did—I won’t tell!